


Writer's Block

by ChimkenNumget



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Cathy centric, Gen, Should I tag this as Cathy hallucinating?, The queens are kinda mean, but that's ok, im new how tf do i tag?, it's just Cath's imagination, this is just angst tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:40:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23154961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChimkenNumget/pseuds/ChimkenNumget
Summary: Catherine Parr can't sleep. Honestly, what's new?
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	Writer's Block

Sleep deprivation was something Catherine Parr was well accustomed of. The thought of sleeping never really crossed her mind, and as far as she knows, the other queens didn't have much stable sleeping schedules as well.

Aragon was by far the only one who actually had at least the stablest of sleep schedules, while Cathy's was non-existent; Anne came in next to her, and despite the gremlin's claims, everyone knows she lies awake at night, unable to sleep. Jane tries to, but oftentimes she too just lays

her bed, thinking of all the things she could've done before, and all the things Henry did that she thought h.did out of love. Cleves was in between. Sometimes she sleeps, out and wouldn't wake up till the next day's afternoon, and sometimes she doesn't, eyes just wandering about trying to distract herself. Katherine had reoccuring nightmares. In the dead of the night, when the shadows are a bit too close to the light, you can hear her scream. Though, other queens like Anne, Cleves, and Jane would do their damndest to calm her down and put her back to sleep. 

Cathy envied that. Not the other queens caring part, oh no, each and everyone on of them was smothered by the other to the point that a day without any type of affection is a rough one, so no, Cathy wouldn't be jealous by that. Oh, she was jealous because despite the terrors, despite their insomniac state, they were always able to sleep, one way or another. Anne had her naps, which she calls "mini comas," and Cleves and Katherine would cuddle along the couch to get some sleep they never got the night before. They all had their way of coping, but what about Cathy? She honestly had none. 

Maybe, the little voice in her mind whispered, she doesn't really want to sleep. Closing her eyes, she saw them: the ghost of the past queens before her. 

_Aragon. Boleyn. Seymour. Cleves. Howard..._

Shadows, but with bright, white, glowing eyes. Staring at her intently, those hollow yet burning gazes bore into her. Judging her, questioning her, _accusing_ her. There are times where they look like their past selves, but most of the time they look like their selves now. That honestly hurts to look at, Cathy would rather have their past selves show up than their current selves. It was better— easier for her to deal with, they weren't that close before, but still. It was much easier to handle, easier to look at, but their words hurt more than anything. 

" _Why?_ "

" _You could've save us._ "

" _Help us._ "

" _Survivor? Please, you could've been beheaded too._ "

" _Your lies saved you, if not, you wouldn't have lived._ "

She forced herself to mute their scorn, dumbed down their voices to the point where she forgets and often mistakes the others' current selves voices with their past ones. Of course, she covers it up, making up excuses, saying she's just tired and worn out. It wasn't really a lie, but it wasn't a definite truth either. 

Still, it was better than seeing current Aragon's shadow looming over her, disappointment clear in those white empty eyes. Better than seeing Anne's shadow sneering at her. Better than Jane's shadow pleading at her. Better than Cleves' shadow downright ignoring her existence. And God, it is much better than seeing poor little Katherine's shadow so shaken and scared, practically begging for her to end their pain. She'd rather not talk about that, honestly, but of course, she just can't shrug it off. 

Maybe this was some sort of karma from her previous life. Maybe she did deserve this, but God she'd be lying if she say it doesn't hurt her. It hurts so much, like a fire inside her that's suppose to light and burn brighter to guide her, but all it does is turn all the hard work she paid off for to ashes. The crackling of flames dancing to their song while they burn away all the good things she ever had in her life. Left shadows and remnants of her mistakes and regrets for her to feed on. It left not only ashes, but the voices of her friends that she wishes she could stop hearing. 

Cathy couldn't stand Aragon's disappointment. She would rather have the Spanish queen be mad at her than to be disappointed. 

" _I expected better from you._ " Shadow Aragon hissed, her golden aura almost surrounding the room. " _I expected more from my goddaughter, Catherine._ _What a waste of my namesake!_ "

Anne's was chaotic, but in a more malicious way. She taunted her, sneered, mocked her to no end. Oftentimes she yells at her, almost grabbing her and screaming:

" _You could've saved Kitty! You could've saved Lizzie!_ **_YOU COULD'VE SAVED BOTH OF THEM!_ **"

Cathy swears Anne's green aura almost asphyxiated her, it almost seemed like poison. Toxic to it's core and grasping Cathy's neck with talon like nails. Almost as if it was trying to take her head.

Jane wouldn't stop crying. Cathy could sympathize. Who wouldn't be in grief knowing that they could never see their children grow? Kitty isn't Edward's replacement and Jane knows that, everyone knows that, but the void in Jane's hearts is too deep to be filled by just their own love alone. 

" _Is he like his father, Catherine? Please tell me he isn't. Please. Cathy, ~~please.~~ _ _~~Please please please please please~~ — _"

Cathy honestly can't look at Jane without feeling some sort of guilt. She married Jane's brother, only to realize Thomas isn't really what he seem, and the suffocating white aura that covered the room made her shiver; it was freezing.

Cleves couldn't care less about her. She isn't like that in person, even if they're not as close. But her shadow had this resentment towards her that Cathy just couldn't figure out why. Maybe... because Cleves really had a hatred for her back then. They weren't really that close even in their past lives too. 

" _Leave her._ _Just leave her alone._ "

Leave who? Cathy couldn't pinpoint who. She had a theory that maybe it was Kitty. They were and still are very close. But why would she leave Kitty alone? She wouldn't do that, never, but Cleves only saw red and left her be. 

Kitty wasn't disappointed nor was she mad at Cathy, but the look in her eyes was despondent, like she gave up on herself but not on others. 

" _Save them, Cathy. Please. I don't want to hear Annie screaming again. I don't want to see mum crying again. Cathy, please. Help them._ _Save them, please!_ "

She can't. Well, not in a way Kitty's shadow wants it to. Cathy can't just take away centuries worth of pain; be it from Aragon, or Jane, she can't. She can't, and that was not fine. She can't just flick her wrist and magically Anne's nightmares are away, she just can't chant something cryptid to boost Cleves' self esteem, nor can she wave a wand to end Kitty's desperate pleas. She just can't, but God she _wanted_ to.

If only things were easy she'd help end their pain in a heartbeat, but that's a God's work, and Catherine Parr was not a God, nor is she some mythical being disguised as a human, she's just her. She's just a human with faults and mistakes and problems, and she's running solely on her morning black coffee and toast. She's just a writer who hides her pain in her writings, and copes with all of the hauntings in her poems; she writes, and writes, and writes, until she's done— until she looks up from her work and realize it's the next day. But tonight, where the shadow feels too solid, where she can actually feel their hand snaking their way on her neck, made her stop and realize: tonight, she has the _worst_ case of writer's block.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'm that dumbass from Tumblr. Yes, I write angst. No, I'm not projecting. Or am I? Who knows!


End file.
